The Opera-house Catacombs
by Pensez-a-Erik
Summary: Christine... hasn't always had the best of luck. And she certainly wasn't fortunate now, trapped in the dark catacombs beneath the opera, lost beyond belief.


She couldn't tell if it was adrenaline, terror, or a mix of both that was pumping through her veins. All Christine knew was that her heart was racing at a million miles a minute and that she had just narrowly avoided death.

She stared in dismay at the wide chasm before her. She was so stupid- Erik had told her where all the traps were various times. He didn't want her to accidentally fall in and injure herself.

"I would rather kill myself than see you be harmed in the catacombs, Christine," he had told her then. She had laughed nervously at his statement, knowing he was completely serious.

Oh, why had she not paid closer attention to where all the traps were? Now she was lost, alone in the dark, with no way to contact Erik.

It had all begun when she was trying to return to his home following rehearsals, and just like all the other times she had traveled down below, she had grabbed her lantern and headed through the mirror.

It was only when she'd been a quarter way there that she had tripped over her own feet, stumbling forward and crashing against the ground. Her lantern had clattered against the wall and extinguished, leaving her in near complete darkness.

Christine had picked the handle up with shaking hands, inspecting it with the vain hope that she might be able to somehow reignite the light. She had no such luck.

She had then thought, rather erroneously, that she was still on the same path, wandering down what she believed was the same route.

But then the floor before her caved in on itself, nearly taking her with it. She knew for a fact that there were no traps on the main path.

She had no clue where she was.

"Erik?" she tried calling out. Wouldn't the trap have triggered some sort of alarm? Perhaps he would come and find her. She hoped he would.

But no one came… and Christine was beginning to shiver. The coldness of the stones seemed to seep into her bones, even with her thick skirts and all. Her gloves had been previously discarded upon her desk, and she sorely regretted taking them off now.

And she was pretty sure her ankle was sprained- it was throbbing mercilessly and while she could walk, it wasn't very easy.

She called out for Erik again, but it was pointless at this point. He couldn't hear her. Good lord, how far had she strayed from the main path?

Christine began to limp back the way she came, her hand pressed to the wall to steady herself. At some point, she was forced to drop her broken lantern to have both of her hands free and was left trembling and walking down the tunnels without any sort of aide- even if it was completely useless.

She wanted to believe she had a sense of where she was going, but in truth, she did not.

Especially when she hit a crossroads, where her path broke off into three smaller turns.

"This is not good," she muttered to herself, blinking at the dimly-visible paths. She did not remember this when she had been walking before! Where the hell was she?

Anxiety twisted her stomach, her hand still remaining against the wall for support. Which way dared she go? She stared at the three options, absentmindedly rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm herself. It was still freezing, after all.

"Perhaps I did not notice the other paths," she said and shifted uncomfortably as her voice bounced and echoed down the chamber. "Maybe I simply went straight ahead and passed them." That was plausible, right? She decided to go directly across, then.

She took a step forward, into the middle of the room, and her hand left the wall for a second. In that second her foot caught on a tripwire of sorts, sending her crashing once more to the floor, colliding painfully with the damp stone. Then, to her abject horror, the floor began to tilt beneath her, sending her down- _sliding_ down into God-knows-where.

She screamed in shock and terror before she hit the cement bottom, her hand landing awkwardly beneath her and her head hitting the ground. Sparks danced before her vision, combined with what felt like an explosion behind her eyes. It hurt. Badly.

There was the grind of stone closing overhead, and she blacked out.

XXxxXX

Erik paused in his playing, tilting his head ever so slightly. Was he imagining things, or had the alarms just set off?

He rose slowly from the piano bench, his brow furrowing. A quick glance at the clock showed that Christine was late- by two hours.

Erik swore under his breath. He was so neglectful, she should have arrived long ago. How had he not noticed?

Where _was_ she?

His mind trailed back to the alarm. He was now positive that it had gone off at some point while he was distracted.

What if Christine had somehow fallen into one of the traps? His heart clenched with sudden fear. The traps in the catacombs were dangerous, _very_ dangerous. He had constructed them so that only he could open and close the traps, and certain ones were created with a quick death in mind.

What if she had fallen into one of those? He didn't want to imagine Christine, falling from a trapdoor and immediately being impaled mercilessly on spikes. Her blood would be on _his_ hands.

Erik desperately hoped he was incorrect and was simply being irrational, and that Christine had perhaps been held up after rehearsals, and that the alarms being set off was merely coincidental. Surely that was more plausible, right? Christine knew the path to his home by heart- he had made sure that she would never get lost.

That's what he told himself as he put on his mask and hurriedly donned his cloak. The alarms were set up so that they went off when _any_ of his traps went off, leaving him to guess which one had been breached. Erik would have to check each one.

"Hang on, Christine," he said as the front door closed behind him.

XXxxXX

She slowly came to, unsure of where she was or what she was doing. Her hand, while not broken, ached like all hell, and her forehead felt as if it had been run over by a buggy. Twice.

She felt wetness at her hairline. Was she bleeding? She lifted a hand to check and was startled to find that indeed, she was.

"Erik!" she called out, her voice shaky from fear. There was no response.

Christine's eyes narrowed against the darkness, trying to make out something in the gloom. It felt as if she were encased in a stone tomb, with no clear way out. She had fallen in through the top, and that had closed behind her.

She rubbed her hands together for warmth, trying to plot her escape. She couldn't depend upon Erik for rescue, no matter how much she wanted to.

A phrase he once told her suddenly came to mind. He had told her of one of his other nicknames… the Trap-door Lover. It certainly fit him, with all the small escape routes and trap-doors he had hidden around the Opera house.

Maybe there was a similar mechanism at work down here? Surely he had implemented ways to get out, in case he fell in during an emergency.

Of course, there was always the chance he _hadn't,_ considering the fact he knew the entire catacombs like the back of his hand. _He_ would never get caught in one of his own traps.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to try.

Christine thought back to how she had fallen down into the pit in the first place. There had been a tripwire on the floor that she triggered when stepping forward, so perhaps another one was implemented here? She thought back to her dressing room and the chink in the rim of her mirror. She had managed to figure _that_ out, so surely she could find the hypothetical one in her trap?

Her hands ran along all the walls of the tomb but rendered nothing. And there was no spot out of the ordinary on the floor, either. _If_ there was a button to open up some sort of escape, it would probably be up at Erik's height.

The only issue was that Erik was around a foot taller than she was.

Letting out a groan, Christine leaned against the far wall, tilting her head against the stone. She didn't want to die in the catacombs, all alone. What would Erik think, when she never returned back home? Would he think she had carelessly deserted him? It would break his heart!

She pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes with an exhale. Her throat tightened as she willed herself not to cry. The _last_ thing she needed was to start sobbing again. She needed to find a way out!

And then her eyes spotted something that stood out against the wall, far up ahead. It shimmered for a split second, as she tilted her head up _just_ enough. The button!

She braced herself against the wall. The only way she'd be able to reach the small spot would be to somehow climb up, and while that initially seemed impossible, she looked down at her boots. The chamber was small enough so that while leaning against the far wall, her feet still touched the one opposite her. And while her idea seemed crazy at first… it might the only way she could get out.

Christine divested herself of her outer skirt. It would only weigh her down, and she needed to be as few obstructions as possible when climbing.

She leaned against the far wall, pressed her feet to the one opposite, and slowly, precariously, took a step upwards with her feet while using her hands to push herself farther up the cold stone.

She felt ridiculous doing so, but she managed to slant away her embarrassment as she realized _it was working!_ Christine could see the button up close now, and she shifted her weight to reach for it. Her hand skimmed lightly across the surface, finding the chink in the wall after a moment or so. She pressed down, and felt the grate of stone below, indicating the new passage.

Christine slid back down, gasping with delight at the exit. She did it! She had escaped the trap!

XXxxXX

Erik took a step forward, and whatever that had been beneath his boot made a crunching sound.

Dumbfounded, he lifted his foot to examine. Pressing his gloved fingers to the ground, he found a lantern. It was the lantern he had gifted Christine a few months ago when she had begun to make regular trips by herself down to his home.

He frowned at the now shattered lantern. He had broken it when he had stepped on it- but that left a big question. _Why_ was it on the stone ground, extinguished? Christine had to be somewhere around.

He tilted his head to look at the path ahead, easily recognizing the three passageways ahead, as well as the tripwire right before him.

"Christine?" he called out again, and where there had been only the silence of the caverns before, he now recognized the barely audible reply of Christine.

" _Erik!"_ her voice was muffled as he pressed his ear to the floor. She was down in an old trap he had planted very long ago, and he wasted no time in tripping it purposefully, hitting the button on the way down. He landed on her discarded skirts, paying no attention as he quickly made his way down the open chamber. Christine was a few paces down the pathway, he realized with a panic. She spun around to look at him with wide eyes.

"Erik!" she gasped.

He ran forward, grabbing her roughly and yanked her away from her spot. She yelped as he pulled her sharply into his embrace.

He cupped her dirt-stained face with his hands. Breathing her name, he kissed her tenderly. She relaxed against him, her own small hands reaching up to pull him closer.

When they both finally broke for air, he exhaled roughly. She smiled a little bit. "You didn't have to grab me so quickly," she said, her voice soft. "You surprised me."

Shaking his head, he replied. "No… Christine, you were about to step into another trap. One that was made to be fatal."

Her face fell. "I thought I had actually managed to escape your trap. Looking back, though, that button was probably too easily spotted for it to be real."

"Precisely." His lips were pressed into a thin line, but his eyes were warm with concern. "I must ask, though- are you injured in any way?" He hoped not… he would rather die than be the source of Christine's injury. He was incredibly relieved she had not perished within the catacombs. Very, very relieved.

"Um, well," she blinked upwards. "I sprained my ankle and hand at some point, but neither hurt anymore. I _did_ cut my head when I fell, though. I was bleeding for a while, but I think I'm okay now."

He felt at her hairline for a few seconds, before hugging her tightly once more.

"Come, let us leave these damned catacombs," he said. "I must make sure you are not seriously injured."

"...and how exactly do we do that?" Christine asked. She could not spot any visible escape.

He reached out and pressed a spot on the wall that appeared to be nothing more than a stone in the wall- something that would not have caught her eye.

"My dear," he smiled, but it lacked any humor. "I _always_ have an escape route prepared."

XXxxXX

The mug was warm in her hands, welcome after the frigid temperature of the catacombs. A blanket was wrapped around her torso, and she sat before the fire to preserve heat. Erik sat beside her; close, but not touching. His fingers tapped against the plush carpeting, and she could tell something was bugging him.

That, and the fact his eyes refused to meet hers. His amber gaze remained trained on the fire.

"Erik?" his name was a question, and she reached out to lay her hand on his. His fingers twitched beneath hers before he pulled his hand away. She was hurt, of course, but more than that, confused. Was he mad at _her?_ Of course, he had reason to be, but his actions now did not appear to show that his frustrations were directed at her.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, and her hand remained on the carpet.

"You could have died," he whispered. He did not look away from the fire, but his gaze hardened.

"But I didn't," she countered. "You saved me, Erik."

"But what if I hadn't? What then?" He turned to face her, now. He was frowning still, and his eyes were clouded with anger… but not at her.

She once more grasped his hand, and this time he did not pull away. His eyes were locked on their entwined hands, unable or unwilling to meet hers.

"Erik, I know you think otherwise, but what happened down there was _not your fault._ It was mine. I shouldn't have wandered once I got lost." Christine swallowed. "You always told me when lost to stay where I was, and that you would find me. If you should be mad at anyone, it should be _me._ "

"Mad at you?" he echoed. "No- never at you, Christine. It's not your fault that your Erik created terrible traps that could imperil you. He is evil."

She shook her head vigorously. "You are most assuredly not evil, Erik. You are the kindest, smartest and most magnificent man I have ever known. I love you, Erik. I love you! I would never even _dream_ that you would purposefully put me in danger."

Her free hand reached upwards to cup his mask, and he leaned into her touch, closing his eyes momentarily.

"You, my dear," he breathed. "Are the most lovely and delusional girl I have ever met."

She ought to be offended, but she could hardly compel herself to be. Not as she leaned forward, pressing her lips against his. Her palm still cupped his mask as they kissed, her thumb brushing the edge of it in question. The nod he gave in response was small and barely classified as a nod as she removed the mask quickly, discarding it to the side and resuming their kiss.

Eventually, they pulled away for breath, though her forehead remained resting against his. Their hands lay entwined in the small space between them.

"I love you," she said. "Do you believe me now? I love you so _so_ much. And if I have to travel through the catacombs to get home, then so be it. Because you know why?"

"Why?" he asked.

"Because it means I get to be with _you_ every day. And I wouldn't trade that for the world. You are worth it, Erik."

He blinked at her for a few moments, before embracing her tightly. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she paid no second thought as her blanket fell to the floor. Erik pressed his face into her curls, gasping lightly enough for her to deduce that he was crying.

She soothed him, her hand rubbing slow circles on his back.

After a few moments he quieted, and they sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, simply hugging.

Of course, her stomach had to make her hunger known, and he pulled back with a chuckle. She immediately missed the comfort his arms brought as he moved away.

"You missed lunch," he noted. "We shall simply have to make a very large dinner, I suppose."

Christine grinned, standing with him. "That sounds delightful, Erik. And what shall we cook?"

"I was thinking a warm stew, perhaps. Something nice and hot, to warm you up."

"You'll have to eat at least _one_ bowl, though, Erik," she blinked up at him pleadingly.

Erik rolled his eyes but remained in good humor. "Anything you wish, Christine. If it would please you."

It did.


End file.
